


It's all about perspective and the view from here stinks

by Legs (InsanityRule)



Series: A Modicum of Humanity Makes Everything Harder [3]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Mental Illness, this is approx ten years after canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-05
Updated: 2016-12-05
Packaged: 2018-09-06 16:53:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8761318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsanityRule/pseuds/Legs
Summary: Following a nasty blow to the Cobblepot family's employees, Ed and Oswald decide to take a little vacation from Gotham in order to avoid the fallout. It's four murders, three states, and several hotels later, and somehow the hardest thing they'll face is deciding whether or not to stick together.





	

Ed slides the deadbolt of the door over and attaches the chain before picking up the tray with his and Oswald’s order from room service and carefully approaching the bed. He looks down unhappily at the tray of food (steaks, and a bottle of sauvignon blanc 1969) and sets it on the small table near the window. He has the urge to throw the bottle through the window, to watch it shatter on the street below with a satisfying crash, but he sets the bottle on the table and uncorks it, then fills two glasses. Ignoring the food, he hands Oswald one of the glasses, and the two sit on the bed, idly sipping at their glasses and refusing to begin what is, most likely, going to be a difficult conversation.

Oswald, brave, sturdy Oswald, begins with a comment, innocent enough, just a mentioning of their botched plan, “you didn’t kill the bellboy.”

“I thought it pertinent to wait. Neither of us has eaten since yesterday.”

“The state of our hunger holds no influence over whether or not we should have killed him.”

“ _ Should  _ we have killed him Oswald?” Ed asks, and instead of a response Oswald drains his glass. “I’ll pour you another,” he says as he stands from the bed.

Oswald stares down at the bedsheets, a the simple monochromatic duvet with complementary sheets and pillowcases, and drags a knife out of his pocket, idly breaking the quilting on the duvet. A stress response, perhaps. Something harmless to keep his hands busy. It doesn’t appear to be helping all that much.

Ed watches the wine as he pours more into Oswald’s glass, tilting it ever so slightly to avoid splashing any drops onto the sides. He catches himself before he can daze off and overpour.

They can’t keep ignoring this forever. “Oswald,” Ed calls his attention, and he looks up, mid-stitch removal, “I believe we’re both thinking about the same thing, and we should address the,” he pauses, “a trunk which cannot store a thing-”

“An elephant in the room, Ed.” He says, no humor or irritation, just a weary, long-suffering sigh and a sad smile, “yes, I agree. We have much to discuss.”

Ed hands Oswald his refilled glass and returns to the table, grabbing the bottle of wine and setting it on the bedside table before sitting beside Oswald, who’s begun swirling his glass, watching the liquid within as it moves. “Oswald, at the beginning of this trip I was filled with a certain sense of excitement, a positive outlook if you will, but two weeks ago, since our untimely departure from Ohio, I’ve had an odd sense of foreboding.”

“Ohio was quite entertaining though,” Oswald smiles fondly, then throws back his second glass of wine. “I would enjoy owning a few businesses there, maybe branch out my influence.”

It’s a pipe dream, they both know that, but Ed lets Oswald revel in the dream for a moment. “I hear it’s lovely in the fall.”

“Dear Ed, it is fall.”

Ed nods. “Oswald,” he sighs, and looks down at the duvet, at the ruined stitches, and back up to look Oswald in the eye, “something feels wrong.”

Oswald’s smile falls, and huffs once, nearly a laugh, and says, “although I hate to admit it, I’m afraid I have to agree with you Ed. I can’t remember the last time I felt so unsettled.”

Ed looks to the table, to the slowly cooling food, and offers Oswald a hand. “We should discuss this over dinner. There’s no sense in wasting our food.”

“Agreed,” Oswald takes his hand and makes his way to the table, easing himself down into a chair and handling a fork absentmindedly. Ed joins him, and the two begin eating.

“They under-seasoned the steak,” Ed says as he takes one of the tiny shakers, the pepper, and adds a bit to his food. He can’t taste a difference. Maybe it isn’t the steak’s fault. He watches Oswald as he takes another bite, grimacing as he chews. “Are you alright?”

“I don’t think I have much of an appetite if I’m being honest.”

“I suppose there’s no sense waiting then.” He folds his hands in his lap and begins, “Oswald, the nature of our relationship has always brought forth the best in ourselves, highlighting the strongest, most ambitious facets of our personalities.”

“We make quite a team. I can’t imagine wanting anyone else by my side.”

Ed nods, smiling at Oswald, who’s smiling back just as big, and then feeling his expression fall, the little flutter his eyelids always seem to do when he’s upset. He glances at the room, at a mirror near the door, and sighs in relief when it’s only himself looking back. That part of himself has been under control for a few years now, thankfully, but Ed can always feel him lurking just under the surface.

“Oswald, if we’re to have this conversation, we need to be honest with ourselves.”

The smile, which had already diminished after Ed’s face fell, eases away to a neutral, somewhat unhappy expression. “I was under the impression we  _ were  _ being honest with ourselves. We should leave Gotham, you said. We’re going to get perspective. To lick our wounds and come back  _ stronger  _ than ever.”

“I did, yes,” Ed nods. They should have just stayed in Gotham. He knows that now. Hindsight has always been rather cruel. “We were down several men, security was hit especially hard, and Zsasz was brought into Arkham and his crew reduced to almost nothing. Staying would have-”

“I know, Ed,” Oswald holds up a hand, “I know. We determined the risk of staying was very high,” Oswald puts his hand on the table near Ed’s, and taps his pinky, “and business is stable enough, was stable enough, to continue on without us there.” He shakes his head, “but, who knows now?” He says loudly, and laughs, but he doesn’t sound amused. “Maybe everything’s burned to the ground.”

“Resilience is one of your strengths,” Ed insists. He takes Oswald’s hand and squeezes his fingers. “I think we’re getting a bit off topic. This is,” he takes a deep breath, “this goes beyond business matters.”

“Yes,” Oswald squeezes his hand back, and twirls his empty wine glass with his free hand, “I don’t like it out here, Ed. Gotham is my home.” He throws the wine glass and it shatters against the wall. “Gotham is my  _ home _ , Ed, and I hate it. I hate everything about that god forsaken city.”

What he wouldn’t give to go back in time and stop himself from suggesting they leave. “I’m so sorry Oswald. I had no intentions of tainting your perception of the city.”

“Oh I already knew what Gotham is, Ed,” he rubs his forehead, “I  _ thrive,  _ no,  _ we  _ thrive in Gotham.” He shrugs. “I never truly understood what that means until now.”

Oswald lets go of Ed’s hand, and Ed reaches out sadly as he stands and moves so he’s staring out the window. Ed stands and walks over to Oswald, placing one hand on his waist and his lips against the abysmal haircut they gave him while huddled in a bathroom outside New Jersey. Two inches is much too short for Oswald’s features. Oswald leans back so he’s leaning on Ed’s chest, and drags Ed’s hand up so it’s over his chest, and Ed places his other hand on Oswald’s hip.

“The last one, that man in Ohio,” Oswald lets Ed lace their fingers together and move so his arms are crossed in front of his chest in a tight hug, “Something was missing. I don’t even know what to call it.”

“I’ve always thought of it as a rush,” Ed says with his lips still against Oswald’s hair, “a thrill. I miss it. I didn’t know it could leave.”

_ You just didn’t want to admit it to yourself, coward _ .  _ You know it’s been missing for weeks. _ Ed glances into the window, but his reflection is all he sees. He pulls Oswald just a bit tighter to his chest and hides against Oswald’s shoulder.

There’s something wrong with him, something wrong with the both of them. He should have left Oswald alone, just let him live his life untethered by Ed’s deficiencies.

But he can’t imagine a world without Oswald by his side. There’s a hand in his hair, also cut, also too short for his liking, and he kisses Oswald’s neck once. Twice. Any more than that and he knows they’ll just end up distracting themselves. Still, he releases Oswald’s other hand and holds his hips, fingers slipping under the hem of his sweater.

“I don’t think it’s coming back.” Oswald swats Ed lightly when he slips his hand in his sweater. “You’re the one insisting we have a conversation. Don’t back out now because it’s gotten uncomfortable.”

“Yes of course.” He stills his hands, but doesn’t remove them from Oswald’s sweater. “I think we only have two options, moving forward.” He moves so he’s standing in front of Oswald, and says, “we either go back, or we never return.”

“Yes, those are the only two options,” Oswald nods. “That’s not exactly new information, Ed.”

“They both have new circumstances, and new drawbacks,” Ed looks over his shoulder, out the window at the quiet movement of Lake Michigan, and he draws the curtains. That world isn’t for them. “If we return, we’re back to our business ventures, to our usual habits,” which sounds just so  _ trying _ now. “But if we stay out here, outside of Gotham, I’m afraid our chances of continuing to remain independent are rather slim.”

“We’d be institutionalized,” Oswald scoffs and moves over to the bed, throwing himself on top of the duvet and covering his eyes with his hand, “we’re, what did that couple in Pennsylvania say? The ones just outside New Jersey?”

“I believe they called us crazy,” lunatics, more like, or possibly nut cases, he’s having a hard time piecing together the memories of that day. It’s certainly not the first time either of them has been called crazy, but it’s the first time he’s thought it might be true. He’d gotten a bit overwhelmed by the epiphany that they’re a bit more abnormal than normal.

He does remember their expressions, the twin looks of horror at what he and Oswald were about to do. They were terrified, pleading, and their faces are the first ones he sees when he closes his eyes. Never mind his cunning, or Oswald’s skill, that day it was a lust for bloodshed, pure and simple. No one was impressed by their tactics.

How many times has he confused terror for awe?

Afterward, they’d ditched their usual suits, the themed clothing burning easily enough in a barrel outside an abandoned warehouse. Their hair was cut with Ed’s deft hands while frantically whispering a plan of action in a single stall bathroom. They continue on, they keep moving, and they don’t look back until they’re safely tucked away in the next state over.

They’d found a clothing store, and somehow made it a fun little game. “How droll would it be,” Oswald had said, “if we pretended to be just like these brainless sheep?”

Only now, after “pretending” to be just like everyone else, being himself feels a bit like wearing a sweater that’s just a few centimeters too small, just a tad too tight at the shoulders and neck. It’s uncomfortable, being in his own skin. He’d forgotten what it felt like to be so out of place, the feeling of being somewhere he just doesn’t belong.

Oswald snaps him out of his thoughts when he calls out to him. “Ed, for my benefit, which choice do you think we should make? What choice do we really  _ have _ ? What does it mean if we just let ourselves be placed in a mental health facility?”

“Well,” Ed sits at the foot of the bed, still facing the window even though the curtains are drawn, “considering the fact that, usually, an institution will address problems and why they arise, there is a very strong chance that,” he turns slightly towards Oswald and places a hand on his good leg, “we would be split up.” Oswald lifts his hand away from his face. “We’re terribly guilty of enabling each other.”

“That’s not exactly a compelling argument for staying away.”

“Oswald,” Ed turns so he’s facing him fully, a stern, serious expression on his face, “as you already know, I would do anything for you. If you,” Ed nods to himself, he can’t take this back once he says it, but it’s for the best, “if you decided to stay away from Gotham, if you would prefer to try and get help from an institution actually intent on the betterment of one’s mental health, I would support your decision, even if it means we can never see each other again.”

Oswald turns onto his good side and crosses his arms, pouting quietly. Ed moves so he can lie down behind him, and wraps an arm around his waist and kisses the back of his head. Oswald asks, “which would you prefer?”

Ed shakes his head, “I don’t want to influence your decision, but I can’t imagine spending my days anywhere but by your side.”

“Well, you’ve done a terrible job avoiding having any influence over my decision.” Oswald laughs, then sighs quietly. “What happened to Gotham? I don’t remember it being so out of place in the world.”

“Nothing appears the same when you’re on the outside looking in, Oswald. It’s all about perspective.” He runs his fingers over Oswald’s side, dipping his fingers into the gentle slope of his waist, down to the hem of his sweater. Oswald turns around and touches Ed’s chest, following the corded knit on his sweater. “Oswald, I’m sure you’re aware that going back won’t change what we know.”

“No, of course not,” Oswald says as he grips a handful of sweater at Ed’s waist, tugging him just a bit closer. “What if business is dead, Ed? What if, somehow,” Oswald shakes his head, “I can’t fathom losing my empire like that. It’s disgraceful, an embarrassment.”

“It’s only been a month,” Ed cups a hand over Oswald’s cheek, “even Gotham can’t turn itself completely upside down in that amount of time. And you’ve already come from nothing once. You could do so again.”

“I don’t have it in me to conquer a city twice,” he says as he shifts so he’s on his back, one hand tugging Ed close until he’s lying with his head on Oswald’s shoulder, “but I can’t stand the thought of someone attempting to dissect my thoughts. I’m old fashioned that way.”

_ You’re traumatized that way _ , he thinks,  _ we both are. _

He can accept that. He can understand that Arkham is an outlier, but he can’t imagine himself or Oswald at another facility. They’re from  _ Gotham _ , and weird in Gotham is practically alien in the rest of the States.

“So, our choices are laid before us,” Ed begins, “we can either stay away from Gotham forever, turn our heads away and never look back, and possibly find a reputable institution, preferably one with a few extra amenities,” he jokes, but Oswald is beyond that now, staring up at the ceiling miserably. Ed clears his throat before saying, “or we go back, we understand that we’ll always be broken, but that we can remain independent in Gotham in a way we can’t anywhere else. It’s the inevitable, an aggregate of minerals that makes up part of the earth's crust and a location with considerable difficulty traversing.”

“A rock and a hard place,” Oswald answers. Ed’s chest aches when that doesn’t bring him any sense of joy.


End file.
